Thursday, June 5, 2014

Back to Life--Back to Darkinboddy!

Summer is about to begin, and I will be getting back to my real passions--writing, reading, and preparing conference presentations for the fall. I am currently teaching an African American literature course focused on major writers--such as Frederick Douglass, David Walker, Henry Highland Garnet Frances E.W. Harper, Charles W. Chesnutt, Nella Larsen, and Toni Morrison. It is always a pleasure to teach this class--introducing students to primary texts by authors whom they may have heard of, but whose works they have not had an opportunity to read in depth.

When the semester ends in three weeks, my focus will turn again to my (recently neglected) blog--click on the title to be directed to The Darkinboddy Chronicles.I have received messages from many of you urging me to continue with my web project, The Life and Strange, Surprising Adventures of Melanie
Darkinboddy, An American Negro: A Tale of Race, Cookies, and Theft, and that I will do. Melanie's adventures have continued--below is a bit of background--I will have fresh posts up this coming week--stay tuned!

Humble Beginnings

Melanie Darkinboddy was born on July 16, 1857. Her earliest memories, however, begin
with the conflagration that engulfed the Colored Orphans Asylum during the New
York City Drafts Riots of July, 1863, three days before she turned six years
old. In a sort of “cover letter,” dated May 16, 1954, Melanie Darkinboddy
sets forth, in a few brief lines, a prefatory note wherein she makes apologies
for interstices and other disruptions of the narrative:

Dear Reader,

Herewith begin my
reminiscences of long-ago occurrences in my life. I was but a child when many
of the earliest events took place; I trust that an editor will repair my crude
narrations in a style that will render them readable and engaging.

There was a little party on that day, with teacakes and lemonade set out for
those of us girls who had birthdays that month. As it happened, I was the only
foundling in the place at that time with a July birthday. Oh, I felt so
special! I had received a pretty little red, white, and blue cup and ball game
from my favorite teacher, Miss Eliza Hinton.

We had finished our lessons and were just then eating the little cakes when one
of the other school matrons came running into the playroom, her eyes wide with
panic. She hurriedly whispered to Miss Hinton, who made us stand immediately
and form a line. As we were moved to the rear of the building with great
alacrity, I suddenly began hearing awful sounds—hideous screaming, the sounds
of shattering glass, breaking wood, and explosive blasts. We were all quite
frightened, and some of the little ones began to bawl. The mistresses
"shushed" them and brought us all toward a back door that led to the
rear grounds of the school.

Playroom, Colored Orphans Asylum in NYC, ca. 1861

Just
then, I remembered that I had left my
cup and ball in our playroom. It was the only gift I had gotten, and I
was determined
to retrieve it before escaping. I managed to slip into a bottom cupboard
by the
rear door when one of the mistresses turned her back, and hid there. As
soon as she had gone through the back door, I crawled out in an attempt
to reclaim my
toy.

Suddenly, I heard a loud splintering noise behind me, followed by a loud bang.
The doors had all come crashing down, and I glimpsed angry, red-faced screaming
whites spilling into the school wielding rude clubs and knives. I squeezed
myself back into the cupboard before they caught sight of me.

Their wild shrieks filled the air. 'Burn the d___ed monkeys! Kill the
abolitionists!' The screams and rough language filled me with terror. I knew
that if they were to discover my hiding place, they would tear me to bits!